


The Price of Being Boys Scouts

by farad



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: My first foray into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, this is set between "Avengers: Age of Ultron" and "Captain America: Civil War" (and tbh, I started writing it before I saw "Civil War").Special thanks to Deannie for the help and remembering lots of the details that I forgot about the movies! All mistakes are my own.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [randi2204](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/gifts).



> This is a very very late birthday present, and probably not quite what you would like. As always, the story went - somewhere else entirely.

 

  
“He's such a fucking boy scout. How is the hell does he get through the day without getting killed?”

 

Clint didn't open his eyes. The headache – which was a little like a hangover, but he'd been careful about what he was drinking so it was probably more about dehydration and falling asleep on Tony's couch with the strange cushions that didn't really adjust to your body – was persistent enough to make him avoid engagement.

 

Especially when Tony was this strident.

 

“Perhaps that optimism is what makes him so great. It is possible people live up to expectation if they understand what is expected of them.”

 

Clint managed to not gag. It helped that he recognized Banner's voice – as well as his perverse sense of optimism. He was really not going to like having to open his eyes.

 

Why hadn't he gone home last night – as he had told himself repeatedly he was going to do?

 

“I'm beginning to understand why The Big Guy shows up when he does,” Tony said with a sigh. “Do you really listen to yourself? That is such a load of -”

 

“Tony?” Pepper's voice was distant but the pitch of it – decidedly feminine – cut through Clint's brain like a knife and he almost moaned. “Everything all right?”

 

“All good!” Tony called, much cheerier than he had been. “Just a little get together with the guys last night – what brings you by so early?”

 

Fortunately, his words had faded a little and Clint had recognized the sound of Tony's feet, bare, on the hardwood floor as he shuffled off to find Pepper. Perhaps he could go back to sleep -

 

“Did you see Steve leave?” Banner's voice was soft but close, and Clint could feel the man's presence close by. Dammit.

 

“No,” he said – or tried to. His mouth wasn't cooperating, his tongue sluggish and jaw stiff. It actually hurt a little and he wondered if he'd gotten hit by one of them. Instinctively, he flexed his own hands and noted that his knuckles, while stiff, didn't seem bruised.

 

“Are you sure?” Banner pushed, and Clint heard the concern.

 

With a sigh, he forced his eyes open. Then shut them immediately. It was far too damned bright in here – damn Tony for building his 'castle in the air' so close to the sun.

 

Damn him for having a full bar and demanding that they all play 'Truth or Dare' to celebrate their temporary reunion.

 

Damn Thor for coming back from his realm - being so hard to drink under the table.

 

Damn Banner for coming back for the Pacific – and agreeing to play the game with them, instead of going back to Nat’s, where he was staying.

 

Damn Steve for being such a -

 

“Shit.” The memory was hazy, but the look on Steve's face – that was clear as the damned sun that was going to blind him when he opened his eyes again.

 

So he kept his eyes closed as he forced his feet off the couch and twisted, sitting up.

 

Then falling over on the other side, his body out of his control and his head pounding so hard he thought he might pass out.

 

He groaned, the vibration of it roiling his stomach, and he wondered how much Tony would hate him if he threw up on the floor.

 

Then a hand caught his shoulder and pulled him at the same time that Bruce said, “Drink this.”

 

It was sweet – too sweet to be water, but it felt good going down. When it hit his stomach, there was a moment when he thought it might come back up, but only a moment. As it settled, so too did his stomach. The pounding in his head eased some as well.

 

He braved the dangers of opening his eyes again, blinking several times in the brightness before finally focusing on Banner, who was sitting on an ottoman in front of him. “Better?” the other man asked, his soft voice warm and concerned.

 

“Yeah,” Clint said automatically – but after a few seconds, he realized that he was. “What was that?” he asked, hoping it was something he could get himself and not some magical thing Banner had gotten from Loki or some alien or – even worse – Tony.

 

“Mostly, it was electrolytes, but super charged with vitamins and other nutrients that recharge the system while creating water in your blood. I concocted it for myself – the Big Guy sucks a lot out of my own system and I kept waking up feeling like I was in the worst hangover ever. After a few tests, I realized it was electrolyte, water, and vitamin depletion. Being that size takes a lot out of a body.”

 

Clint had never thought about it, but it made sense. He took a deep breath, his body still stiff but the headache receding.

 

Which reminded him of why he'd sat up in the first place.

 

“He's going to Natasha's,” Clint said, pushing up. “Holy shit – I've got to get over there. She's gonna kill me.”

 

Banner frowned and there was a sudden darkness in his eyes that made Clint flinch. “Why was he going to Natasha's?” he asked, his voice still quiet but with an edge.

 

Clint swallowed, pulling back a little. “Not what you think,” he said quickly, though he really didn't know what the other man was thinking. But then, Banner and Nat had been showing up in the same place, at the same time a lot lately. And Nat had been smiling a lot more as of late . . .

 

Banner's frown deepened. “What am I thinking?”

 

Clint wished he'd gone home, more desperately now than before. He wasn’t even on the team any more – he’d retired. Carefully, and very slowly, he said, “He went to find her because he wanted to know about Tony's father. I made the mistake of saying that she's – well she's – um, she's . . .” He swallowed again, wondering why in the hell Tony was always underfoot – until you really needed him.

 

Banner looked at him, his forehead scrunching, and Clint's mind brought up an image of The Big Guy, his forehead scrunched and his eyes blazing with anger. The tips of Clint's fingers rubbed against his palms and he knew, with crystalline clarity, exactly where his bow and quill were – just under the couch, two quick moves away.

 

It was habit honed from years of practice, through years of working for SHIELD. Through a couple of years of drinking with these assholes.

 

The thought of how much he had trained with Nat was both good and bad. She was still going to kill him – if there was anything left after The Big Guy got done.

 

But even as he thought that, even as his subconscious calculated the fastest reach to his weapons, Banner's brow relaxed and he smiled. “I was wondering when someone would tell him that Natasha was taking the serum that created him – and that she was old enough to remember Peg. How much liquor did it take you?”

 

Clint blinked, unprepared for Banner to understand. “Huh?” he asked, though his brain was already processing the information.

 

Banner grinned. “I know how old she is, Clint. Her attitude and experience belie her physical abilities. And – to be honest – she told me.”

 

For an instant – a very brief one – Clint felt a stab deep in his gut. It had taken Nat years to tell him how old she was. Years, and who knew how many near-death experiences.

 

She had not known Banner nearly as long.

 

“So Steve went to talk to her about Peg?” Banner went on, glancing over his shoulder. In the distance, Clint heard Tony talking to Pepper, but his voice was getting louder, as if he were coming back.

 

“Yeah,” Clint said, leaning forward and reaching down toward his gear. “I need to get over there -”

 

“So did you find out where the hell he is? I swear to God, I'm gonna put a chip in here so Jarvis can track him.” Tony asked, his voice loud as he came back into the room. “If he left here drunk and got into trouble – well, that's the last thing we need right now.”

 

Clint blinked, cutting his eyes to Banner, who was likewise looking at him. It was only for a second, but it was long enough. The laugh erupted from him, as if it had been living in his belly for years, building up combustible energy.

 

Tony stopped walked, hands on his hips, and Clint felt the weight of his stare, but he couldn't stop laughing. Banner was also chuckling – which for that man was the same as hysteria.

 

“What's so funny? Tell me,” Tony said, watching them with a frown. “I could use a good laugh about now.”

 

Clint shook his head, trying to get himself under control. But the more Tony's words ran through his

head, the harder it was to stop laughing. He tried to talk through, his words coming out in sputters. “You think Steve is going to get us in trouble? You – of all people – worried that he would do something stupid?”

 

Tony glared. “You do realize that you're in my home, right? At the top of the city?” He shifted, shaking his head. “And I'll have you to know that Mr. Perfect can make a mistake or two. I've seen him do things you wouldn't believe – his own ideas, too!”

 

Clint did believe that. It was hard not to, not if you know that 'Mr. Perfect' and the mad man with the iron suit were spending time together.

 

Time together that wasn't saving the world. Or even discussing saving the world.

 

Or even discussing anything, except who should be on top.

 

As if Steve could get a word in edgewise with Tony Stark.

 

“So where the hell is he?” Tony yelled over the sound of the laughter. Something in his voice, though, was no longer amusing. There was an edge that Clint knew too well; it was one he heard often in his own wife's voice.

 

The sheer tone of fear.

 

It sobered him almost as well as Banner's magic drink had.

 

He swallowed, looking up at Tony. The fear was almost as clear on his face as it had been in his voice.

 

“He's okay, Tony,” Banner said gently. Apparently, he, too, had heard what Clint heard. “He went to see Tasha.”

 

“Tasha?” Tony snapped, looking from Banner to Clint and back. “What in the world would make him leave in the middle of the night to go see -” He stopped and Clint saw him swallow then glance over his shoulder. Where Pepper had been moments ago.

 

“No, not that,” Banner said quickly, and Clint nodded his agreement.

 

“He's not Nat's type,” Clint said. “Too much a – well, boyscout.”

 

He didn't think about the implications of his words until they were out of his mouth. At which point he turned to look at Banner, once more calculating the distance to his bow.

 

For his part, Banner frowned, then, after a few seconds, he shrugged. “Guess that's a good thing, then. I am far from being a boyscout.”

 

“That why she's not with you?” Tony asked, his voice sharp still, but now with less fear as he stared at Clint.

 

“Me?” Clint asked. “Don't think I'm a boyscout either,” he said, though once more he thought that was probably not a wise thing to say either. It wasn't as if he and Nat didn't have a past, but that was long ago. Before Laura. “But that's neither here nor there.”

 

“So – why did he decide he had to go in the middle of the night to see her?” Tony said, the edge of fear back. “What does she have that I don't?”

 

“So many answers, so little time,” Clint muttered, but he knew that it wasn't really the question that Tony meant to ask. So, with a sigh and a glance at Banner, who nodded his head, he said, “The serum.”

 

Tony's eyebrows arched upward. “Serum?” He cocked his head to one side, staring at Clint. He was a smart man, it did not take him long at all to work it out. “The serum that made him who he is.” Then he cocked his head the other way. “What does she know about it?”

 

Clint drew a breath, glancing to Banner. If he wasn't already in trouble for letting Steve know, he sure as hell would be if Tony knew.

 

Nat was never going to forgive him.

 

“Tony,” Banner started, “how long have you known Natasha? You know she's a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, you know she's done a lot of covert work -”

 

“My father worked on the serum. If she knows something about it -”

 

“She doesn't.”

 

They all turned as Steve came into the room.

 

Tony frowned, looking up at the ceiling. “Friday? What the hell – are you no longer warning me about invaders?”

 

The computer female voice that Clint still wasn’t used to said placidly, “You instructed me to add Captain Rogers to the list of intimates who could come and go unannounced.”

 

“Yeah, well, remind me to reconsider that.”

 

“As you wish – when would you like me to schedule the reminder?”

 

Tony glared up at the ceiling, but he was saved from answering by Banner calmly asking, “How angry is she?”

 

Steve grinned as he pulled off his coat and gloves and tossed them on the back of a chair. It was a gesture that seemed very familiar, one similar to what Clint did when he got home.

 

How he wished now he'd done that last night, gone back to Laura instead of staying here to 'bond' or whatever the hell it was that they had been doing. Recalling the ‘glory days’.

 

Retirement sucked.

 

“She wasn't very happy to see me, but I she didn't put up much of a fight. I think she's going to make Barton, here, pay, though.” He grinned and over, slapping Tony on the back. “You were worried about me? Really?”

 

“The last thing we need right know is more bad press -”

 

“Then it's a good thing you were passed out on the bed when I left,” Steve interrupted breezily. “Friday, is there any coffee?”

 

“A fresh pot should be ready in about 48 seconds,” the computer said.

 

Clint leaned down, pulling his bow and arrows from under the couch. “Think it's time for me to head out,” he mumbled, taking this as the perfect time to get out of this mess.

 

“Thinking that, too,” Banner said, pushing to his feet. “Want a ride to the station?”

 

Clint started to say no – he really did not want to talk to Banner right now. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

 

He certainly didn't want to talk to anyone about Nat, and he knew Banner would be asking.

 

But before he could say anything, Steve chimed in, “That's a really good idea, I think. Be faster than getting a cab – or worse, walking. Sidewalks are pretty icy and I think a lot of cabbies slept in this morning.”

 

Clint looked from one to the other, frowning. Something was up, and the two of them were in on it together. Colluding.

 

He hated colluding.

 

“Then you two run along,” Tony said, waving his hand dismissively. “I have things to do. Friday? See these two out.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Friday’s polite computer voice responded, and a sequence of lights under the floor lit up, as if they were on an airplane and needed to find the nearest exit.

 

“Come on,” Banner said, getting to his feet. “Let's leave these two alone.”

 

Clint sighed but followed along. As he passed Steve, the team leader reached out and dropped a hand to his shoulder and said very softly, “Thanks. I owe you.”

 

Before Clint could ask for an explanation, Banner had hooked his wrist and was leading him out the door.

 

Banner dragged him into the elevator and when Clint opened his mouth to complain, the big man silenced him with a wave of his hand. It was when they were almost at to the ground floor that Clint realized the problem – this was Tony's building which meant there was no privacy. Jarvis recorded everything.

 

Which meant there was something they needed to talk about that they didn't want Tony to know about.

 

Banner walked fast as they left the building, so that Clint had to hurry to keep up. It wasn't until they were at Banner's car that Clint was finally able to speak, though he did find himself looking around to make sure there were no drones or other flying spies.

 

Damn Tony. Now he was as paranoid as everyone else on the team.

 

“Get in,” Banner said, sliding into the driver's seat and touching the lock control. By the time Clint settled his bow, quiver, and butt in the car, Banner had one of his strange little devices out and was scanning over Clint, his weapons, and then himself. He frowned, running the device back over Clint's quiver, then reaching down and pulling something from it.

 

A tiny little object, about the size of a sunflower seed. Banner shook his head then reached into a pocket, pulling out a small glass vial with a cork stopper. It appeared to be filled with cotton, and he dropped the tiny thing into it, stoppered the vial, then stuck it back in his pocket.

 

“We good?” Clint asked, annoyed but not sure exactly who he was most annoyed with.

 

“He's worried about Steve,” Banner said, putting his key in the ignition. It took a few seconds for the car to start, and Clint shivered, the winter cold catching up. Just after the New Year, and the weather was its usual wintery mix. That, he recalled, was part of why he hadn't left last night.

 

“Tony?” Clint said, though he knew that was the answer already. “Yeah, I got that, though I don't understand what he's worried about. Steve's got his head together, better than Tony, if you ask me.”

 

“In some ways,” Banner agreed, adjusting the settings on the car's heating system. He rubbed his hands together and glanced over to Clint. “But in others, Steve's got some issues. He's having a hard time adjusting to – well, time. To the current time, anyway. I can't blame him – I don't know if I'd do have as well if I woke up fifty years in the future, with everyone I cared about dead and the world so radically different. But I wouldn't be put in charge of a team trying to save the world from the next big catastrophe. Steve's great for that – but he also isn't giving himself time to grieve his past. Or to get his head around finding his friend.”

 

Clint sighed, leaning back in the chair and wishing the heat would work faster. “Okay, I can't argue with any of that. But I am also not sure why that involves me – and more to the point, why you're working to keep this conversation between us secret from Tony. Sounds like the two of them need to talk.”

 

Banner didn't answer for a while, concentrating instead – or so Clint hoped – on driving. They merged into traffic, the road wet from melting snow, with random patches of ice hidden against the dark asphalt. But when they reached the highway, the lanes cleared already by the scrappers, he said, “He needed to talk to Tasha. Whether you intended it or not, what you did last night was a good thing. Tasha had been trying to work up the courage to tell him herself – which, by the way, does not alleviate you of her anger, but it is a little mitigating. But she was almost ready to take him aside. You spilling the beans as you did pretty much forced her to take control of the conversation.”

 

Clint closed his eyes, wondering if he could feign sleep. But he knew better. “What is it, exactly, that makes this so important to Tony? He can't be afraid that Steve is going to run away with Nat. Steve has no idea how to talk to a woman – I thought that was already established.”

 

Banner sighed and Clint had the sense that he had failed at some test. But he'd spent his life doing that with everything except archery, so he wasn't too upset.

 

Instead, he kept his eyes closed and relaxed, enjoying the movement of the car and the way that Banner handled it. The man was a scientist, after all, and a pretty damned good one. Good enough to know how to keep them on the road and away from other cars.

 

After a time, Banner said calmly, “The serum was made on Tony's dad's watch. You know the way Tony feels about his dad – but also what Tony wants to feel about his dad. He's still looking for the good in his father. And so far, Steve is it.”

 

Clint thought about that. It wasn't a good thought, the idea that Tony's affection for Steve was based in trying to make a relationship with his dead father.

 

But then again – it made sense. And it made sense that they didn't want Tony to know anything bad that had come out of the serum. But – what was bad? What had Nat told Steve?

 

As if knowing his thoughts, Banner went on, “Tasha is aging – you know that, right? And she does periodically have problems with the serum. We've spent a lot of time talking about them, and I worry that her body is developing some resistance to the serum.”

 

Clint swallowed, fear burning in his belly. He didn't have it often anymore, and when he did now, it was almost always for people he cared about it. It had been a long time, though, since it had been about anyone other than Laura and the kids. “How bad?” he asked, his voice grating because his mouth was dry.

 

Bruce glanced at him and shook his head. “No, no, nothing that bad. I'm sorry, I assumed you knew already. She's always aged a little every year, but it seems that she's aged more each year for the past five years – not a noticeable increment, I don't mean that at all. But it is, of course, something we want to know more about. And it's something that I suspect might be happening to Steve as well.”

 

Clint nodded, catching his meaning. “But you won't know until you can test him. And you can't test him around Tony without freaking Tony out.”

 

“That about sums it up. Tasha drew some blood last night that we can work with, and the two of them talked until he was healed. I'll get some more in a couple of weeks and compare it. For now, I'm going to head into my lab and see how similar their blood is – and try to figure out how much influence the serum has. Most people who were given the serum didn't survive – not like Steve and Tasha. So we still need to figure out what the two of them have in common that has let the serum work for them.”

 

“And – you need to do this without Tony finding out you're doing it?” Clint turned and stared at Banner. “You know that's impossible, right?”

 

Banner shrugged, looking into his side mirror. “Yeah, but we'll try for as long as we can. Mostly for Steve, though, not Tony. Tasha said it best, though I suspect you've already figured it out too: Tony won't like any results we get that tell him Steve's mortal, like the rest of us. He thinks he takes it seriously – like this morning, all worry about Steve and where he was. But he's not really worried about Steve physically so much as mentally, in his commitment to the team and to him. Finding Barnes – well, Steve’s distracted by that, too. He feels that he failed his friend so long ago, and that if he’d been more committed to bringing him back after the mission, a lot of what’s going on right now never would have happened.”

 

“He may be right. But that’s something he’s got to sort out himself – isn’t it? What can we do about that – I mean, other than what we’re already doing, trying to find him. He tried to kill Steve, right – and Nat and -”

 

“And he saved Steve,” Banner cut in. “He claims he was brainwashed, which makes perfect sense. Steve thinks that he’s still the Bucky he knew, still ‘in there’, as he says. And he wants to find a way to save him.”

 

Clint sighed. “He is a damned boyscout.” But he understood. He’d have done the same if it was Nat.

 

Hell, she’d done the same for him, not so very long ago. The thought of that made him cold inside, and he shivered, thinking about what it would be like to be controlled for as long as Barnes had been.

 

Which led him to another thought. “So – is Barnes also on the serum? Is that how he’s managed to live so long and still be so lethal?”

 

Banner shook his head. “Steve doesn’t think so – he says Bucky would have told him if that’d been the case in the past. We don’t know how he’s managed to do that – but that’s another issue we need to address, if we ever find him.”

 

Clint sat thinking for a while, his eyes opened now to stare out the window. Eventually, he said, “So what is the worry? That Tony will find out about Steve’s lack of immortality? That this – whatever it is between Steve and Tony will – well, what?” The idea of defining what this thing was between Tony and Steve unnerved him. Not because he cared about two guys getting it on, he didn’t. But Tony was so – well, Tony. So all over the place. Supposedly he was involved with Pepper, but Clint had the sense that things between them were on the rocks. It didn’t seem that she was staying at the Tony’s anymore and her appearance this morning had been just that – an appearance.

 

And Steve . . . that was another can of worms, made all the more complicated by this discussion, the idea that Tony’s connection to Steve was based, at some level, on Steve’s relationship with Tony’s father . . .

 

“You really know how to start a day off the wrong way,” he said eventually, feeling tired. The hangover seemed to be coming back, too, though it could have been just a headache from all this thinking.

 

Banner made a soft noise, like a laugh. “Well, day’s going to come when we’re going to have to decide, I think. You saw Tony – he’s still feeling bad about what happened with Ultron.”

 

“As well he should be!” Clint snorted. “I still can’t get used to that new voice. Friday – is that supposed to make us think Tony’s some sort of Robinson Crusoe? Though the new computer is lot less proactive.”

 

Banner’s grin faded. “Yeah, though it’s a shame that Tony’s as wary as we are. It wasn’t Jarvis’ fault – and in the long run, he was what saved us, in the form of Vision.”

 

Clint shook his head. “It’s about damned time Tony realized how dangerous he is – hell, isn’t that what we’ve been talking about all morning? Tony and his belief that he’s the only one who ever knows anything? Tony and his belief that he’s all that matters?”

 

Banner said nothing, but Clint hadn’t really expected him to. He knew he was blowing smoke – bitching about things that couldn’t be helped. Not, at least, by them.

 

So he sighed and once more closed his eyes. “How far are you taking me?” he asked, thinking that there were only a few more commuter stops before Banner would have to take him all the way – and he wasn’t sure that was the best idea right now.

 

“To the last commuter point,” Banner said easily. “As long as it takes us to work this out.”

 

Clint frowned and despite himself, he turned and opened his eyes to glare at the other man. “To work what out? What am I missing?”

 

Banner didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he smiled and Clint knew, deep in his gut, that he’d been had.

 

That Nat was getting her revenge now. Dammit.

 

“What the hell are you two planning?” he asked, though he knew he didn’t want to know.

 

And in the end – he didn’t. But it didn’t make any difference. Tony was Tony. Clint knew that the man had demons, most of whom Clint himself could never understand. He felt sorry for Tony – he lived in fear that his own kids might someday go through what Tony had, losing their father before they’d known who he really was, and having to struggle to find the man behind the myth.

 

But in his heart, he knew that he agreed with Steve. Saving the world was saving the world. No matter what was going on in your own head or your own heart, the world was the world. There was no future for his children if the world was gone.

 

Nat knew that too – though she was, as always playing both sides of the game.

 

“No one’s happy with the idea that there are people running around who can’t be controlled,” she said when they got to the commuter parking lot at the last station, where she was waiting for them. “Something’s going to happen, Clint, you know it as well as I. Without S.H.I.E.L.D., and with Hydra operating more openly, someone’s going to get the bright idea to keep track of us. I think Tony’s already worried about it – and with reason. He’s getting a lot of flack, still, about Ultron. He’s not happy that the team is split up. Steve is also worried, but not about the same thing. I think the only thing holding them together right now is – well, the stuff you don’t want to talk about.” She grinned and glanced at Banner who shook his head but smiled back.

 

Clint rolled his eyes. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he said, feeling the cold. “I want to catch the next train home.”

 

She did.

 

For the next 45 minutes, as he made the trip to the station near his home, he wondered why he hadn’t come home last night, as he should have. It would have made today a lot easier – and probably the rest of his life.

 

But Nat and Banner would have drawn him in eventually, he knew. Because there was no way, not really, to retire from what he did. Saving the world.

 

Keeping it safe for his kids and all the kids that were growing up in it. Even if it meant keeping it safe, eventually, from themselves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
